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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020702">‘Round The Yuletide Table</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothMoth/pseuds/GothMoth'>GothMoth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prompt Fills [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Danny Phantom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Party, ClockWork's Not Much Better Honestly, Crack, Elle's A Little Shit, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Taking A Piss On Vlad, danny's a little shit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:01:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothMoth/pseuds/GothMoth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas diner is a thing and ghosts are chaotic things.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prompt Fills [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1320800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>‘Round The Yuletide Table</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Alright dumbasses, dinner’s served”, Danny plops down a silver-plated tray with a loud clang onto the oddly high-quality oak table; unless, of course, you were aware of the fact that this five foot four bastard of a half-ghost was a <em>goddamn king.</em> In which case, the table’s honestly not all that surprising. </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Regardless, one Elle Phantom -aka Bastard Halfa Lite and peak daughterly material that Vlad rejected like an utter <em>dumbass douche canoe</em>- looks shocked and awed; though her eyes are looking at the massive plate of really juicy looking turkey. Juicy since Danny is smart and doesn’t like his turkey tasting like dry cardboard (<em>unlike some people, *cough cough* dad</em>). The little lady doesn’t even hesitate in stabbing her fork into the dead bird and violently tearing off an entire leg. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Dora smiles sweetly at the young princess and takes her own piece in a far more polite manner before passing the bird around. Though the portion of mash potatoes she takes might be labelled as a little... excessive. Danny smirks at that, pointing at the bowl of white fluffy mushy goodness, “I may have accidentally tipped an entire bottle of garlic salt into that”. Dora simply grins, “you say ‘accident’, I say ‘properly measured’, sir Phantom”. FrostBite, however, passes on the potatoes with a grimace. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The FrightKnight slams his armoured fist on the table, bellowing, “any amount our king decides to add will always be ‘the proper amount’!”. Making Danny rolls his eyes and sigh slightly fondly. Leave it to that stickler to praise even his fuck-up’s; though there truly can never be too much garlic, unless you, like, add entire raw cloves in large ass chunks; that’s just nasty, are you trying to set someone’s mouth on fire? (You know who you are)</p>
</div><div>
  <p>ClockWork looks around and nods, producing wine from <em>somewhere</em> -not like anyone is gonna question the fucking Lord Of Time why or how they do anything- and hands it off to Danny. Who sighs fondly but promptly telekinetically floats the bottle around to fill everyone’s cups, except Elle’s because he does have some standards; and one of those standards is not giving four/twelve-year-olds liquor. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Dora sips at her cup and hums, looking to ClockWork, “I’m a bit surprised it’s warm. I wasn’t aware you fancied mulled wine”. ClockWork grins, “it truly is the best choice for this time of year. Like a campfire of cinnamon”. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>FrostBite laughs heartily, “can’t say campfires are something I’m well experienced with!”. Which Vlad huffs at, “of course not, your lands are all frozen tundras”, then continues attempting to grab food as everyone else keeps moving it around the table or otherwise out of the twats reach. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Danny and Elle share a look, both grinning mischievously and just vaguely maliciously; ClockWork smartly leans back subtly. Elle promptly spits a chunk of bone at the vampire-looking deadbeat ‘father’ -not that he deserved the term ‘father’ at all. Vlad scowling at the little menace, wondering not for the first time how he thought anything or anyone genetically identical to Daniel would ever not be a pain in the ass little shit. “Did you seriously have an entire bone in your mouth? Have you no manners?”. The FrightKnight snarls at him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Danny leans back in his high-backed chair and snickers, chewing absently on some ham that was probably cooked with just a little <em>too much</em> ecto based on it occasionally seeming like it was blinking eyes at them, “have you no capability of not being a pompous ass?”, smirking and glancing around the food. Picking up the corn and chucking it at him, using telekinesis to make sure it stays upright and doesn’t just dump corn on everything. Chunks of corn in wine or the ecto-berry sauce would not taste good, thank you very much. “Here, you look hungry”. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Vlad glares at him, “you know very well I don’t like corn, Daniel”.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Exactly”. Danny looks decidedly smug, as does ClockWork. Elle just tilts her head, having not known that particular fact. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Danny turns his head to the dining hall door at the sound of a little bell chiming, watching one of his many technically mindless servant skeletons pushing in a tray with dessert on top of it. One fancy-ass tiramisu in an overly decorative -like, verging on gody- glass bowl. There was also a couple little white chocolate and nutmeg spiced parfaits in tiny cups as well, in case anyone didn’t like tiramisu. Surprisingly, his mom actually made the parfaits; even included ecto-whipping. Danny is seriously starting to wonder if his folks just <em>know</em> and are waiting on him to tell them. Eh maybe someday, but sure as shit that day is not today. No today he’s tearing into a fucking tiramisu, and he’s gonna do it like a feral animal. Because fuck Vlad and his manners, honestly. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Vlad glares at him while everyone else looks at Danny’s antics fondly.... well okay, the FrightKnight does look vaguely exasperated that <em>this</em> is his king. Which yeah, is fair. Even Danny knows there is no end to his bullshit. Especially during <em>Christmas</em>. Because fuck, he still can’t say he doesn’t utterly hate this time of year. Even with the Christmas Truce being a mighty fine thing. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Watching Dora practically flip off her leftover turkey -to make space for a generous helping of tiramisu- at Vlad, only serves to emphasise how truly fabulously fine the Christmas Truce was. Though everyone pauses and just kinda stares when the glob of butchered animal flesh pushes back one of his stereotypically Bram Stoker-esque hair horns and said hair horn springs forward launching the flesh at the wall; his hair horn almost audibly warbling in the air. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Danny snorts and starts snickering, “just <em>how much</em> hair gel do you use, Vladdie”. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Vlad huffs, smooths over his hair horn like his biggest worry is if his hair got dirty when really he should be worried about sporting that atrocious hairstyle to begin with. “I don’t even own any. What do you take me for? A fourteen-year-old?”. Everyone squints at him disbelievingly. Because honestly? No way that bullshit mess on his head was natural. Nada. None. Not a goddamn chance. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Vlad scowls around at everyone and stabs his slice aggressively; earning eyerolls. With Danny quickly changing from snickering at Vlad to snickering at FrostBite and how comically tiny the parfait cup looked in his paws. Said snickering turns into a cackle when Elle manages to toss and dunk a little ecto-berry into FrostBite’s parfait cup; making the yeti jump a little.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>FrostBite looks to the little Phantom and grins wolfishly, “splendid aim! Young warrior princess!”. Elle grinning toothily right back and looking all too pleased with herself. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>In the background, another of the skeleton servants wander in to clean off the bit of turkey -that had once been blessed to be decorating Vlad’s hair; not that the skeleton understands the gravity of that. <em>NO ONE</em> touched Vlad’s hair- from the wall. However at that very moment, one thing no one (except ClockWork. Obviously) had expected -but honestly should have because come on- happens. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Pandora barges through the door, lifting up a thing of galaktoboureko and bellowing, “I HAVE BROUGHT THE MERRIMENT! SO NOW WE MAY ALL TRULY DEVOUR!”. Startling Dora -who had been clearing off some room on the table to better fit all the little parfaits- enough to practically toss all the plates and whatnot into the air, which of course causes all the glassware to shatter apart against the ceiling. Which makes FrostBite toss his half-filled wine glass straight into the FrightKnight’s face as the yeti goes to catch Dora who had effectively fallen into him. The FrightKnight predictably instantly overacting and jerking to stand up, knees smashing on the underside of the table thus flipping the entire thing over. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>ClockWork, Ancients bless them and their -arguably stupid- soft spot, had thankfully tugged on Danny’s and Elle’s respective arms and thus got them out of the way of the carnage. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Pandora blinks and looks around, watching glass rain down and bounce off the ground, bits of food dripping down off the ceiling and walls (now a human would be concerned by how much of it was various shades of glowing and predominantly green. But as Pandora was obviously a ghost and Danny’s too used to this shit, neither so much as bats an eye), the skeleton servant shattering and crumbling apart when the slightly startled FrightKnight elbows It far too hard. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Pandora elects to blink slowly and glance down at Vlad, who’s groaning and buried under the flipped solid oak table with only his legs sticking out like some crappy spooky vampiric spoof of the Wicked Witch Of The East; only difference is Vlad’s legs are even uglier. At least the Wicked Witch Of The East had some sick ass looking shoes that weren’t worn by nearly every rich pompous asshole who moonlights as a ooky spooky ghost super villain on the planet Earth... Okay, so maybe the population of rich people who moonlight as ghostly villains was small, but still. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>ClockWork pats Danny’s shoulder sympathetically as the halfa High Ghost King sighs down at the floor, “my mom made some of that”, and not so much as flinching when a bit of glass falls down and bounces off the tip of his nose. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The FrightKnight spins around, subtly kicking the remains of the skeleton servant under the door hoping to go unnoticed by his majesty (Danny noticed. Danny glared). “Did she truly?”. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Vlad grumbles and shoves off the table, standing up and brushing off his pants and cape, “of course, you dolt. To sample dear Maddie’s cooking is largely why I bothered myself with arriving”, scowling at Danny and around the room, “since there was no chance of this not being a ‘shit show’ as Daniel would say”. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Danny scoffs, “I resent that. Diner went perfectly”. ClockWork nods, “I must agree”. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Vlad grumbling under his breath, “you are deluded, boy”. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Says the deluded creep. Mom’s still not interested by the way”.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Frostbite steps over some of the mess, glass crunching underfoot and ignoring the bit of ecto-syrup that dropped on his horn, “well be certain to tell her it was quite delicious-”. Pandora jumping in, “and that I apologise for whatever I may have wrecked”. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Danny waves her off, “ehhh don’t worry about it. She bakes for the joy of the act, not the joy of filled bellies”. Elle whines petulantly, “but I’m still hungry”. Resulting in Pandora looking from the princess to the galaktoboureko she’s still holding and back a couple times. Her electing to just hand over the whole thing to the small Phantom; who giggles gleefully and stuffs her face. Everyone else watching her somewhat fondly as she floats to sit on the ground, stuffing food in her mouth with her bare hands. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>After all, this was the little missies' first Christmas Truce. And it had gone off with a real bang... and crash... and splat. Really all that was missing was a boom- wait no, pretty sure one of the bits of purple ecto-whipping cream reacted violently with the corn and blew a little hole in the wall. That corn was <em>the bomb.</em> Literally. And that joke was <em>corny</em>. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>All in all, a typical and suiting holiday feast for a bunch of royals, one knight... and Vlad, who has already decided to <em>not</em> come next year. Danny’s perfectly dandy with that, thank you very much.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Elle wipes off her hands on Vlad’s pants, making everyone -but Vlad- grin as some -almost disgruntled looking- skeletons come in to clean up the mess.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <strong>End.</strong>
  </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Requested by thefivecalls on Tumblr.<br/>Prompt: Danny makes a holiday meal for him and Elle and maybe some other ghosts? Ecto somehow makes it onto the ceiling too?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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